The Seventh Tribe: Gathering
by Babylon Sky Hawk
Summary: Those who fail to learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. With a new threat continuing an old war, Sonic and his friends must bring together the six tribes and protect their new home.
1. Ten Years Ago

**The Seventh Tribe: Gathering**

Chapter One: Ten Years Ago…

Death, carnage, pain – these are only a few words that summed up the Second Tribal War

The scene opens to the village of Equinox, the central point that connected all of the Areno Villages together. Once a prosperous village that thrived on commerce and resources was now reduced to a ruined shell of its former self. The various markets were ripped away exponentially, a majority of the building structures had collapsed, and corpses littered the street on a daily basis. Today was no different. Fires blazed across the rooftops and the mixture of battle cries and the rippling sounds of weapons clashing filled the dreary atmosphere. Confusion was rampant across the streets as warriors from all six major tribes were jumbled together in the fight, unable to distinguish friend and foe. Redclaws were seen throwing lava shells into the crowds, Blackhearts burrowed their way through the battlefield, dragging down as many victims as possible; and a crystallized mist was spotted in various places – the Yagura Clan had joined the fight. No one realized that after forty-seven months of endless slaughter, the Second Tribal War would be reaching its climatic finish today.

"I'm giving you one more chance to turn back now." A monotonous voice pleaded. "You don't need to be here."

"And I keep telling you to stop worrying." A younger, arrogant voice replied.

Out of the reach of the war below them, two characters stood rooted at the pinnacle of the tallest untouched building in Equinox. The oldest of them was a shaggy-grey coyote with a mane of chestnut-brown hair that touched past his shoulders and a glazed look in his eyes that would normally appear to someone who is bored. He wore a ripped and tattered evergreen tunic with a hood, a pair of ebony-black pants kept in place by a black leather belt, a pair of dark-green boots with black straps, a pair of black leather bracers for each of his forearms, and carried a quiver of red-feathered arrows on his back. The symbol of the Redclaws – three claw marks – was tattooed to his left bicep and carried a pure-silver longbow with golden roots tracing across the surface.

The hound's younger companion an apple-red robin around fourteen years-old with a ruffle of feathers on his head that pointed in scattered directions. He was lean and nimble – clearly an expert in acrobatics – with a determined look in his eyes that could only say he was a troublemaker. His garments consisted of an emerald-green, short-sleeve jacket, a pair of plain-white gloves, a pair of red/white sneakers with emerald-ring anklets, a black-leather belt with various pouches, and a necklace made from yellow beads mixed with six multi-colored beads. The symbol of the Greenwings – a single hawk feather – was tattooed on the back of his right hand. The eager youth was holding a long dagger with a jagged edge – turning it in his hand from anxiety.

"You shouldn't go looking for a fight, Red." The Coyote forewarned. "Especially not during the war. The Master specifically forbad us not to interfering in the affair of the other tribes."

"C'mon, Veran, where's your sense of adventure." Red replied confidently. "Besides, we were trained by the Ultimate Master – we're better then all of them combined. What better way to show off our skills than to join the fight when all six tribes are trying to kill each other."

"You've only been training with the master for two year." Veran frowned disapprovingly. "It took me six years to complete my training under the Ultimate Master and Regis eleven years before he was ready for the Gathering Tournament. You're not experienced enough for this."

"Ah, stop being such a worrywart." Red commented playfully, leaning closer to the edge of the rooftop. "Besides, just because it took you six years to finish the old hag's training program only means that it's going to take me less time. After all, I'm the best apprentice she's ever had."

"Your arrogance is going to get you killed." Veran proclaimed.

"Wanna bet?" Red challenged.

And before the archer hound had a chance to stop his fellow apprentice, the overconfident robin flipped backwards over the edge and out of sight. Veran instantly darted over the edge, but couldn't spot the arrogant pre-teen amidst all the confusion and catastrophe below. The archer hound sighed – he didn't want to play babysitter. Resolving to the fact that the Ultimate Master would have his head for losing her newest apprentice, Veran pulled the hood over his head and leaped fray. As he came closer to the streets, the Second Apprentice reached over his left shoulder and withdrew two arrows with black spheres replacing the tips. He pulled back the drawstring and sent the arrows whistling between the warriors and smacked against the sand, releasing a large cloud of black smoke. The sudden hazard caused many of the mingled warriors to chock on their own breathe, barely noticing Veran as he nimbly landed on his feet. Most likely due to his training, the coyote archer was able to see through the smokescreen clear as day – he still couldn't find Red. But at the moment, that was the least of his concerns. As the smoke cloud began to wane, the feuding tribes began to find their way back into the battle and resumed their bloodshed. Unfortunately, Veran was in the middle when a Bluefin crustacean swung a conch-spiked mace overhead, which barely missed and crushed the skull of a passing Whitetail. The Bluefin warrior continued swinging his seashell weapon back and forth at the coyote archer, not caring who he hit, was growing frustrated with each miss. The crustacean finally had enough and threw his mace across the street, which Veran easily rolled away and allowed a Blackheart to be smashed in the ribcage. The Second Apprentice quickly moved into a kneeling position and retrieved an ice-tipped arrow from his quiver, sending it flying with a twang of his bow. The arrowhead stabbed into the crustacean's forehead and instead of killing it, transformed the aquatic warrior to a living ice sculpture.

"That should hold you for a while." Veran proclaimed, tapping the frozen warrior to check the hardness. He suddenly felt something bump against his leg and turned on his heel with an arrow already set. "Don't even think of flinching."

"Don't hurt me!"

The coyote archer was momentarily stunned and almost accidentally released his grip. Instead of a bloodthirsty warrior ready to pound his skull, Veran stared down at a little girl around six years that barely came up to his thighs. She looked relatively human with snow-white hair and flawless skin, but had claws and talons like a bird and contained a ruffle of black-feathered wings beginning to sprout from her underarms. Her only garments were a simple black shirt and shorts, which were ripped in various places and splattered in blood. Veran cautiously lowered his bow and kneeled down to have a better look at her – he had to grab the girl's shoulders to stop her from moving. The youngling seemed relatively unharmed with the exception of a few cuts on her knees and her glittering-white hair was blotched with crimson blood. The coyote archer noticed that the little girl was hiccupping silently and wet spots trailed down her cheeks – she had been crying.

"Shh, shh, it's ok." Veran said calmly, ignoring the battles waging around them. "I'm not going to hurt you. What's a youngling like you doing in the middle of a war zone?"

"I-I foll-lowed my mom-m-my." The human-bird girl answered, sobbing between words. "I thou-thought I co-coul-ld hel-lp her. But I-I-I don't kn-know whe-ere she is-s." She buried her face in her talons and kneeled to the sand. "I want my mommy!"

"It's all right." Veran said soothingly, feeling guilty that he might not keep that promise. Being thankful that the battle was moving away from them, the coyote archer lifted the human-bird in his arms and allowed her to cry on his shoulder. "What's your name and where are you from?"

"L-Lyda." The girl known as Lyda answered, sniffing slightly. "My mommy always says we Greyfangs."

"Greyfangs." Veran said annoyed, patting Lyda's back softly. "Of all the tribes in Areno…..Lyda, I'll try to find your mother, but I'm not making any promises."

"Mommy…" Lyda moaned longingly.

"I understand." Veran said sympathetically.

It was most likely that Lyda's mother was participating in the fight with the Greyfangs – the tribe with the most casualties in the Second Tribal Wars. The coyote archer had a feeling that the girl's mother may had died somewhere in the middle of this carnage, but he wasn't about to tell her that. The child had suffered enough. The only logical thing he could do was keep Lyda in a safe place and find Red before they escaped to safety. Unfortunately, the will of Argus – the great persecutor – was insistent on continuing the suffering of Areno's denizens. The Second Apprentice of the Ultimate Master was about to settle his longbow back into place when his eye twitch at a small sound. The noise echoed from the nearby alleyways and the fight was taking place in the center of Equinox – someone had stayed behind. Veran didn't want to startle the scared child more than she was now, but holding her made it impossible for his to reach for his arsenal. If he could just set her down for a second…

"AHH!" Lyda screamed fearfully; Veran flinched at the noise.

Thanks to the girl's unintentional tip, the coyote archer was able to jump to the right side to avoid a blur of steel-grey that skidded across the desert sands. Veran regained his footing and gently tucking the shaken Lyda behind the wreckage of a former market stand before facing his newest enemy. The warrior was fast, but the Second Apprentice didn't expect his new opponent to be so young. The warrior was a steel-grey griffin around fourteen years-old with a bright-orange beak, piecing yellow eyes, and a pair of four-foot wings connected to his spine. His attire consisted of jet-black running shoes with grey markings, two silver bracelets on each of his wrists, and the black cloth tied around his waist. The symbol of the Greyfangs – two snake fangs with a drop of venom between – was tattooed on his chest in black ink and four crimson-red gashes were visible on his sides. Veran's animalistic senses could sense the malice in the griffin's eyes as he slowly knocked a coal-tipped arrow in his bow.

"You're Veran, the Ultimate Master's second apprentice." The griffin stated proudly. "I waited years to test myself against one of the Ultimate Master's students – to prove my worth amongst the greatest of Areno's history. My victory over you will settle my placement as one of Areno's finest."

"Who are you?" Veran questioned coolly, pulling back the string.

"I am Gryz the Griffin, Second-Class warrior of the Greyfangs." The griffin known as Gryz answered.

"To be Second-Class at such a young age." Veran said collectively. "That is very impressive."

"I've trained my whole to strive for the best." Gryz proclaimed cunningly. "I've studied the way of the arena since my birth, learned from the best masters the Greyfangs have to offer. But it wasn't enough. No, in order to satisfy my thirst for power, I must learn what I can from the true master of Areno – the Ultimate Master."

"The master would never take a power-hungry vermin like you." Veran stated, tightening his grip on the longbow.

"He will after I kill you." Gryz replied.

The teenage griffin seemed confident, but not cocky like Red – he was serious. The Second Apprentice pulled back the drawstring as far as possible to increase the speed and strength of his shot, deciding where to strike. Veran wasn't a murderer – he wouldn't take the boy's life. A sudden clatter behind him drew the coyote archer's attention before he realized that Lyda had accidentally knocked over a piece of wooden debris. Not good. In the moment of distraction, Gryz dashed across the street at high velocity with his razorblade claws withdrawn to strike. Not having enough time to turn around, Veran released the string with a sharp twang, sending the coal-tipped arrow flying in the opposite direction of its target. Gryz felt confident that he had already succeeded in overcoming the Second Apprentice that he failed to realized Veran's arrow had reflected off the walls twice and was headed in his direction. Before he knew what happened, the teenaged griffin was thrown to the ground after the coal-tipped arrow stabbed into his right shoulder. At the moment of contact, the coal-tip ignited to a blazing fire, burning into Gryz's skin. The Greyfang warrior endured the pain as he grabbed the shaft of the arrow and ripped it out of his flesh, throwing the projectile into the sand. Gryz slowly pushed to his knees, panting heavily, and gazed over his new wound – the arrow had left a permanent burn on his right shoulder.

"Fast, resourceful, and cunning." Gryz praised, steady lifting to his feet. "These are traits given to you by the Ultimate Master – a worthy adversary to test my own special abilities." He raised his left hand, enveloping his palm in red energy. "You see, we're not the different after all."

"I have to disagree." Veran said, stepping between Gryz and Lyda as he withdrew another set of arrows. "I hope Red's doing better than I am."

* * *

The scenery alternates to the western side of Equinox where the battle was slowly dying down. But that was mostly because of the efforts of the Third Apprentice. Red the Robin was racing up and down the street, dashing between warriors with impressive reflexes while slashing them with his dagger. Unlike his predecessor, Red had no trouble killing his opponents. In the last twenty minutes alone, the teenaged apprentice had already killed of six Greenwings, two Bluefins, two Redclaws, four Whitetails, three Blackhearts, and eight Greyfangs. And he was just getting started. The Third Apprentice jumped between a Greyfang satyr and a Whitetail snow rabbit, equally pushing them away and slitting the rabbit's throat. Red was unconcerned as the arctic hare gurgled incoherently and dropped backwards before turned to the half-man, half-goat. Satyrs weren't natural warriors so it was fairly easy for the teenaged robin to disarm the goat-man and stab his dagger through his ribcage. Red ripped his weapon outwards to cut open the goat-man's side before letting the creature fall forward to die – he used the satyr's wooly hide to wipe off the blood.

"That seriously the best they got?" Red laughed mockingly, kicking the dead satyr's side. "C'mon, where's the challenge in that? I was hoping someone would at least last a minute before they died." All of a sudden, something hard and metallic smacked against the back of his head. "AH DAMN IT! What the hell was that?"

"You cruel, evil monster!"

"What the Shadow Realm." Red mumbled confused.

The Third Apprentice turned back, rubbing the sore spot on his head, and spotted a bronze disk flying across the street by rebounding off the walls. It was only shortly after that he realized the disk was actually a bronze shield as it was snatched out of the air by its owner. The brave attacker was a young serpent at eight years-old with poison-green skin, a row of black barbs running down his spine, and amethyst-purple eyes. His clothing mostly consisted of tatter royal-purple pants with a matching tunic with his recovered bronze shield fastened to his right forearm. His tribal heritage was made apparent when Red spotted the symbol of the Greyfangs tattooed on his left shoulder. Though he tried to put on a brave face, the teenaged robin could tell that the snake child was visibly shaking – he resisted the urge to laugh.

"Whatcha doing here, little boy." Red taunted loudly. "Isn't it past your bedtime? You better get back before mommy and daddy ground you."

"Shut up, you sick freak." The serpent scowled. "I saw what you've been doing – killing people left and right like this is some kind of game. You were even killing your own tribe for Argus' sake!"

"So what?" Red shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not my fault they can't keep up. But then again, as the Ultimate Master's student, that technically makes me better than all of them – I can do whatever I want."

"Students of the Ultimate Master are chosen for their good hearts and virtues." The serpent stated defiantly. "The apprentices exist to protect Areno and share their teachings to the world. What you've been doing…..this is not how the Ultimate Master would have wanted his knowledge to be used for evil practices like murder!"

"What the Shadow Realm do you know?" Red glared spitefully, twirling his jagged dagger in his hand. "I'm the apprentice around here."

"One that is undeserving." The snake responded calmly.

Red could feel his left eye twitching – he was pissed. The teenaged robin kicked off the ground and glided for the younger warrior with his dagger stabbed ahead, only to be reflected off the surface of the shield. It became apparent that the young serpent was wise beyond his years and he lifted his shield upwards, throwing off Red's attack and connecting the edge with the robin's beak. The Third Apprentice stumbled backwards while rubbing his beak, sneering with pure hatred at the serpent warrior raising his shield in defense. He was the Ultimate Master's student – the best of the best – and no stupid child was going to make a fool out of him. The red robin charged forward with his dagger gripped backwards, waiting until the Greyfang child had lifted his shield before flipping over the bronze plate. The young serpent warrior was confused when he didn't feel anything colliding with his shield until he felt Red's blade pressing against his neckline. The Third Apprentice himself was grinning from ear-to-ear, enjoying the shiver of fear that ran down the pre-teen's spine.

"You ready to admit I'm the best?" Red smirked victoriously.

"That's all you care about: being the best." The snake child said collectively; Red was annoyed. "What about the other things that matter like the welfare of your tribe and the safety of your friends. What about your family? Don't you care about them?"

"Like any of that actually matters." Red scoffed. "Wake up and smell reality, loser. On this world, it's either kill or be killed – survival of the fittest. There's no way I'm gonna let a bunch of thickheaded friends or my worthless family drag me down with them." He pressed the knife deeper into the snake's throat, drawing a line of scarlet. "The only reason I'm listening to what the old hag has to say is because she's the only one that can make me stronger."

"And what do you intend to do after you've learned everything?" The snake asked curiously.

"What else!" Red laughed humorously. "I'm gonna kill the bitch and take her place! When I become the Ultimate Master, the whole world will know who's number one – I'll be the most powerful warrior that ever set foot on this Argus forsaken wasteland!"

"And you'll pass your teachings to others?" The serpent continued.

"Shadow Realm no!" Red shook his head. "I'm not stupid enough to give others a chance to kill me. After I take over, I'm gonna teach the rest of the villages who is in charge. They'll have a choice: listen to me or die." He moved in closer, leaning towards the child's ear. "And speaking of which, I may as well let you in on a little secret before you do the same. I started the war."

"What?" Toxin exclaimed; he didn't dare move with Red's blade to his throat.

"It wasn't that hard, but it wasn't easy." Red continued proudly. "I was just starting out with the old hag when a little voice popped into my head – I thought I was going crazy at first. But after a little talk, it told me that there was a faster way of getting stronger than working out with the so-called 'Ultimate Master'." He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the mention of the name. "How an emotional bitch like that became master I'll never know."

"What does this have to do with the war?" The serpent continued.

"Impatient little lizard." Red said jokingly. "I didn't buy it a first, but it made sense to me. What better way to make myself stronger than to test myself against the strongest in the world at their most powerful? So I did a little digging, found the stupid trinket, spread a few rumors, and – BOOM! Instant war." He started laughing in a sinister manner. "And the best part is, all the leaders think that one of them started the war – those idiots!"

"And that voice?" The snake asked, slowly turning his head.

"She asked me to do a few things." Red smirked wickedly. "She should have thought about that before telling me everything."

"She?" The serpent repeated curiously.

"Like it matters." Red stated, pressing his dagger further. "All that matters is that this war is going to keep going until I become the real Ultimate Master."

"No." The serpent child said sternly. "I'll never allow that to happen."

"And what the Shadow Realm are you gonna…"

The traitorous apprentice stopped in mid-sentence as he gazed deep into the serpent child's eyes, which had transformed to bright-yellow slits. Red could feel his body going rigid before losing all feeling in his nerves, unconsciously allowing his dagger to hit the sand. The Third Apprentice came to a sudden realization before he fell backwards with a heavy thud and the darkness consumed him: the child was a Basilisk. The serpent child stared depressingly at the corpse of the former robin before his eyes regained their natural purple color and felt a sudden rush of weakness. As a Basilisk, the child species was capable of killing with a single glance, but it robbed them of their strength for several weeks – it was a last resort tactic. The snake child started to totter back and forth on his feet as his muscles began to relax against his wishes and fell forward. Thankfully, a strong hand caught him by the chest and settled him gently on the sand.

"Are you all right?" A strong, deep voice said.

"You…." The child mumbled.

Have you ever imagined meeting your idol in real life? That was partially how the Basilisk child felt at the moment. The newcomer was a powerful, deep-red lion with a golden mane that reached to his backside, but had the tail of a black-shelled scorpion – he was a Manticore. The warrior wore a breastplate made from black steel with the symbol of the Greyfangs pressed into the center, shoulder pads and greaves made from the same material, seven silver rings clasped to each of his forearms, a helmet forged from black/crimson steel, and a black belt with the symbol of the Ultimate Master – a golden, six-point star – on the face. Out of the corner of his eye, the serpent child could spot a silver hammer the size of his chest strapped to the Manticore's left hip. Though he appeared very intimidating, the colossal warrior reached into his golden mane and retrieved a water pouch, allowing the weakened child to drink.

"Are you ok?" The Manticore asked concerned. "I saw what happened. You were brave to stand up against him."

"You…" The snake said tiredly. "You're Regis. The Ultimate…Master's…first apprentice."

"Yeah…" Regis said slowly, looking over to Red's corpse. "You'll have to forgive me. I would have helped you earlier, but when Red started talking abut the war and strange voices, I had to wait and see if there was anything we could use."

"The tribes are fighting a war that needn't fought." The serpent child said importantly. "We have to stop them while we still have a chance."

The First Apprentice nodded his head in understand and he gently lifted the brave warrior into his arm. Before departing to the central point of the battle, Regis and his accomplice took one last look at the traitor of Areno. How could anyone have fallen so far?

* * *

The scene alternates to the central plaza of Equinox as the Second Tribal War was nearing the climax of the battle. All sides had suffered from a number of casualties, injuries, and most of the warriors were too tired to move. The one night within the month and it had to be spend fighting for their lives under the light of their single moon. Veran could have thought of many things he would have preferred than this, but he wasn't in any position to be complaining. But a shocking turn of events, the Second Apprentice of the Ultimate Master had been pushed back into the center point of the war by this upstart teenager. Gryz had proven himself to be a formidable opponent and the coyote archer was barely capable of getting a proper shot at the griffin warrior. And to make matters worse, Gryz had threatened to kill Lyda numerous times unless Veran intervened. The snow-haired girl was clinging to Veran's back, trying to hide her face in the back of the archer's neck. Both warriors had been cut and bruised during the fight, but the coyote archer received the worst due to his protection of the Greyfang girl. The Second Apprentice reached into his quiver and knocked two silver-tipped arrows before releasing the drawstring. Tired and weak, Gryz coated his hand in red energy and slashed across the air, snapping the arrows in two before they even got halfway. Veran tried to reach for another arrow, but discovered that his quiver was empty – he had used up his entire arsenal. On the plus side, Gryz had severally drained himself during the fight and dropped to his hands and knees before falling on his side. His muscles sore and stinging, Veran slowly followed his example – Lyda stared at him with worry.

"Hey, get up." Lyda said meekly, gently pushing his shoulder. "We got to find mommy."

"Listen carefully, kid." Veran panted heavily. "It's too dangerous for you to be here. Find a good place to hide and wait until morning – the fight should be over by then."

"What about you?" Lyda asked, tears started to swell in her eyes.

"I've been training my whole life to protect others." Veran responded softly. "I'm prepared to die so that you can be safe."

"No…" Lyda said tearfully, burying her face into the coyote's shoulder. "I don't want you to."

The coyote archer tried to reason with her, but the human-bird refused to leave him. And that had its consequences. A Redclaw Panther noticed the weakened warrior and made a charge for Veran and Lyda, wielding a crowbar like a sword. The Second Apprentice instinctively wrapped his arm protectively around the little girl and braced himself for impact. What happened next changed Areno forever. The battle was quickly brought to a halt as a spear of lighting crashed into the center of the plaza, sending most of the warriors flying overhead, including the panther. Veran used both his arms to shield the human-bird girl from the blast radius and cautiously lifted his head when the light died – Lyda remained nestled in his chest. By either fate or good fortune, the blast had left everyone unharmed and scattered around a crater fifteen feet in length yet only two feet deep. A quick wave of muttering was passed around the mingled villages, which came as no surprise based on who Veran saw standing in the crater.

"Master…" Veran said lowly.

The Ultimate Master of Areno had appeared before them. She was a hot-pink swallow in her late 30's with a white-diamond birthmark on her forehead and a braided strand of feathers that hanged off her right shoulder. Her garments consisted of pure-white tube top with a single strap over her left shoulder, five golden rings on each of her wrists, a lengthy pure-white skirt with a slit that started at the left hip, which revealed her slender, bare legs, and a pair of simple sandals. The most interesting feature about her was the golden six-point star tattooed above her breasts – the symbol of the Precursors. To the few that heard Veran's words, whispers of the Ultimate Master's appearance began spreading like wildfire. Serena the Swallow ignored the muttering and walked over to her second apprentice, kneeling down to the battered and bruised coyote. Lyda peeked for a moment to look at the looming master and whimpered slightly. However, a sincere smile from Serena earned the trust of the harpy girl as she removed her former student's hood and rest a hand on his head. It was one of those strange abilities only Serena seemed to understand. From the moment of her touch, Veran felt reenergized despite still looking like he had lost a fight with a meat grinder. The coyote archer steadily pushed back to his feet, lifting Lyda into his arms securely as he faced his former teacher.

"Master Serena…" Veran said meekly; Lyda rested her head on his shoulder. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Serena said strictly, but not too much to scare the child. "I though I told you not to interfere with the war. We have nothing to do with this."

"Believe me, this is the last place I want to be." Veran said pleadingly. "But I found out Red was trying to join the fight and I tried to stop him."

"Where is Red now?" Serena requested.

"The boy's dead." The duo turned and the crowd parted as Regis the Manticore carried the victorious child into view, stopping in front of his former master. "I was passing by the village when I saw Red killing the warriors – even the Greenwings. I thought something must have been wrong and tried to follow him, but this little guy beat me to it."

"This kid killed Red." Veran said in disbelief. "Now I've seen everything."

"You killed my student?" Serena repeated, glaring down at the serpent.

"Forgive me, master, but I had no other choice." The serpent child proclaimed unwavering. "He was killing his own brethren without mercy and was enjoying it – I didn't want anymore bloodshed. I did what I had to in order to stop him from killing anymore people." The master's gaze didn't falter. "I can understand if you want revenge and I wouldn't deny that I might as well deserve it."

"You shouldn't blame him master." Regis said supporting. "Red was a bad egg to begin with. Before the kid killed him, Red admitted that he was the one that started the rumors about the other tribes finding the key and set them against each other. The boy was the whole reason the war started and he was only using it so that he could try to overthrow you."

Master Serena leered deeply into the Manticore's eyes, which were unflinching under his teachers gaze. The Ultimate Master could see honesty in his first student and felt her heart drop exponentially. The pink swallow had always known that her third apprentice had an insatiably lust for power, but to intentionally start a war seemed so…painful. The Ultimate Master allowed his gaze to drift to the sand below as she stared off into space, ignoring the muttering being passed between the tribes. The sudden knowledge of knowing they were being played like puppets made the six major tribes lose their moral in continuing this war. What was the point of fighting for something that wasn't real? Quite frankly, al the warriors seemed very relieved to stop – they had already lost too many friends and family in the bloodshed. But there was still one more matter to be resolved Serena told herself as her gaze lifted to the Basilisk child once again.

"What is your name?" Serena asked tenderly.

"Toxin." The serpent replied. "Toxin the Basilisk."

"Toxin the Basilisk…" Serena repeated, settling her hand on the child's head. "You have shown remarkable ingenuity, unwavering bravery, and loyalty to the people you protect. But more importantly, you have a kind and gentle heart that reaches out to others. With your permission, I would wish to make you my fourth apprentice."

"You-your fourth apprentice?" Toxin repeated with genuine shock. "Me?"

"You stood up against Red because you wanted to end the war." Serena stated certainly. "Perhaps if he had a gentle heart like yours, he could have become something great – perhaps even surpass me one day." She leaned down to the child, whispering softly. "You have a gift, Toxin. Don't ever forget that."

The soft tone seemed to act as a lullaby to the serpentine child as he slowly drifted off into sleep, nestling himself further into Regis' mane. The Ultimate Master allowed her lips to shift into a gentle smile as she softly caressed Toxin's cheek like a mother would for her child. But she couldn't ignore the pain and guilt she felt for losing Red in more ways than one – she wasn't going to repeat that mistake with this child. Serena stood in full attention as she faced her apprentices, taking notice that Lyda had finally fallen asleep from all the excitement.

"There's much that needs to be done and we have little time to do it." Serena said softly for the children's sake. "If we are to repair the damage Red made, we need to work fast. Regis, I want you to take Toxin back to his home and inform his parents or guardians of my offer to make him my apprentice. If they accept, you will guide Toxin to the Precursor Sanctuary in the Shadow Realm within three days. Veran, return that child to her family and gather all the Tribal Leaders at the Crimson Volcano as soon as possible. I think there might be a way to mend the broken bonds between them.

"Yes, master." The apprentices nodded.

Once making sure the serpent child was secure, Regis bounded over the wall of warriors and took off into the desert towards the Silver Dunes, leaving behind a trail of smoke. Veran cautiously moved between the tribes with Lyda still sleeping against her shoulder, throwing mistrustful glances to each warrior. In due time, the crowds began to scatter either to find a place to rest or begin the long trek back to their villages. This left Serena the Swallow standing alone in the crater she made with only her thoughts to keep her company. After a while, the Ultimate Master reached into her tube top and pulled out an odd pendant shaped like a golden, six-pointed star.

"So much trouble over something so small." Serena murmured.

_-End Flashback-_

* * *

The final scene transfers to the Precursor Sanctuary, home of the Ultimate Master. The central hall that stood at the pinnacle of the mountain tops within the Shadow Realm was fifty feet in length and twenty feet in width; the largest chamber in four worlds. The ceiling to the chamber was lost into the darkness above, but was seemingly suspended by six monolithic columns – each one bared a mark of the six tribes. The walls were decorated in every inch by exquisite paintings detailing the centuries that had passed with podiums below holding ancient artifacts of historic nature, preserved texts in many forms, and refined weapons from forgotten battles. Just one glance would teach a person the entire history of Areno. And to top it all off; a red velvet carpet stretched from the entrance to a triangular flight of stairs with an impressive throne forged from pure gold standing at the pinnacle. But the main attraction was the four golden statues that represented the four students of the Ultimate Master nestled the columns that marked the Redclaws and the Greenwings. Serena herself stood between the third and fourth statues, looking between her former student's expressions.

"It hard to believe it's only been ten years." Serena murmured to herself. "And still I can't learn to forget."

"Master?" Serena looked over her shoulder as Light Gaia/Chip fluttered up to her. "Sonic just woke up and wants to know when he can start training?"

"Already?" Serena snickered silently. "He only barely passed the trials yesterday and he wants to dive straight into it? I swear, not even Red was that impatient." A moment of silence passed between them; Chip twitched nervously. "Tell Sonic to eat breakfast in the dining hall and meet me in the Forest Cavern – the place where he took the first trial."

"Ok, master." Chip nodded uncertainly. "Are you all right? You look sad."

"I was just thinking about my mistakes." Serena answered solemnly, looking mostly at the statue of Toxin. "Wondering if I did the right thing."

* * *

**Master and Apprentice begin their journey down the difficult road ahead. How will the events of the past shape the world of the future? What is the true reason behind the Second Tribal War? And how will Sonic's training assist him in the coming battles? Find out on the next Gathering!**

**Please, read and review.**


	2. Exiles

**The Seventh Tribe: Gathering**

The Shredder © Mirage Studios  
Eve the Cat © The Brawler

Chapter Two: Exiles

Areno has gone by many names over the centuries: a godforsaken world, a scorching rock, and The Eternal Prison. But whether they liked it or not, this world was their home and they had to make the best of it. Areno was mostly comprised of a seemingly endless sea of sand that stood between the veritable villages scattered to the four corners with the blaze of the world's three suns floating over their heads. Ironically enough, this was the cold season. Within the reaches of the Ebony Drifts – the central desert of Areno and territory of the Blackhearts – a trail of dust followed in the tracks of a motorized vehicle called Sand Rider hastily driving through the dunes. The marking on the side of the vehicle represented the symbol of the Greenwings, which was made apparent by the pitch-black crow behind the wheel. But the greatest attention was focused on the red cardinal shivering violently in the passenger's seat. Ridel the Cardinal was making his way back to the Jade Jungle after coming from his first battle as a Second Class warrior in victory. The scarlet knife-thrower had managed to pull out a close win against a warrior from the Whitetails that could manipulate body temperatures, which resulted in the young cardinal suffering from severe hypothermia. The heat of the desert managed to level most of his vitals, but he was still showing signs of sluggish movements and mild confusion.

"So, feeling any better?" The crow driver asked.

"Just…maybe a little." Ridel said slowly, pressing his hands against his chest. "I've heard of…giving someone…the cold shoulder…but that was…seriously…cold."

"If that's supposed to be a joke, you might wanna work at it." The crow scoffed playfully.

"Sorry." Ridel chuckled roughly. "Sonic was…always the…jokester of…the group."

"Yeah, whatever happened to him?" The crow questioned in confusion, making a sharp turn to avoid an exposed stone. "No one's seen him in over two months. There's a rumor going around lately that he ran all the way to the Shadow Realm and challenged the Ultimate Master. If that's true, then that hedgehog's as good as dead."

"I…wouldn't…underestimate him." Ridel said with even breaths. "From everything…I've heard…about him…he's…a lot…stronger…than you think. I'm sure…he's fine."

"You actually believe anything that guy says?" The crow asked ludicrously. "He says he's from a world where there are magic jewels, electrical viewing boxes, and machines that can fly through the clouds – the guy's nuts. Then again, you'd have to be nuts to set foot in the Shadow Realm. If it were me, I would – AUGH!"

Without warning, the Sand Rider received an unexpected increase of weight on top of the hood, causing the entire base to flip forward. The motorized vehicle was somersaulted through the air with its passengers trying to resist the nausea welling up in their stomachs, which only made Ridel's current condition worse. The Sand Rider finally came to a crash face first into the desert – burying it halfway into the sand – and ejected its cargo into the dune in front of it. Feeling the harsh grits of sand scrapping against his feathers shot a quick spark of pain down Ridel's spine, which could only be explained by his present weakness. Very slowly, the crimson cardinal pressed his hands against the ground to push himself up, only to fall back down after only rising only four inches. He started to wonder why this always happened to him without realizing that things were only gonna get worse. The Second Class warrior felt a strong hand close over the nape of his neck – he shuddered from his flaring nerves – and was forcefully lifted off the ground.

"Well, look what we got here, boys." A cunning voice snickered.

Because hypothermia dulls the senses, it took a few short moments for Ridel to register his words and a lot longer for him to adjust his blurred vision. He found himself facing a smug looking Black Panther flanked by a timid tortoise, a wicked looking sparrow, a runty arctic hare, and dimwitted Cyclopes. To complete the collection, Ridel finally figured out that a large scorpion warrior was keeping both Greenwing warriors suspended two feet off the ground. And while they all carried the symbols of their respective villages, the one thing they did have in common were the scars passing over their marks.

"You…" Ridel panted heavily. "You're…exiles."

"And you're the brat everyone's been talkin' about." The Black Panther said smoothly, grasping the cardinal by his beak. "At the age of fifteen, Ridel the Cardinal is said to be the youngest warrior to ever make Second-Class in the history of the Greenwings." He released his grip, only to swat the young avian across the face. "Heh! They'll let anyone in these days."

"We don't have any material!" The crow said fretfully. "We've got nothing you would want!"

"Oh, I don't know." The Black Panther said in a cunning manner. "Holding their youngest Second-Class warrior for ransom wouldn't hurt our chances. I'm sure the Greenwings would reward us greatly to get one of their best warriors back."

Ridel seriously doubted that, but didn't voice his thoughts – the Greenwings hardly dealt with hostage situations and they weren't going to make an exception for him. So when the arrogant panther moved closer to gloat in the young knife-thrower's face, the crimson cardinal smacked his face forward to head-butt the exile leader. The Black Panther hissed and snarled, creating enough of a distraction for Ridel to throw his heel into the Scorpion's abdomen. The banished Blackheart barely felt anything due to his solid exoskeleton, but the shock was enough to release his grip over the Greenwings. The crow driver dropped face-first into the sand with a muffled grunt while Ridel landed gracefully to his feet and jumped away from the swarm. With his heels skidding across the uneven sand, the crimson cardinal withdrew two of the many daggers strapped to his belt, holding them in a reverse grip. The Black Panther shook his head free of the spots clouding his vision and leered spitefully at the Greenwing warrior. At first, he may have believed that he had underestimated the kid, but that was before he noticed the cardinal's wobbly stance. Still being effected by his hypothermic condition, head-butting the leader may have not been the best idea Ridel ever had. The knife-thrower of the Jade Jungle came off worse with a splitting headache that partially impaired his senses and his movements were significantly uncoordinated. He was doing his best not to trip on his own two feet.

"Aw, feeling sick?" The Black Panther asked in mock concern; his goons laughed stupidly in the background. "Don't worry; we've got the best medicine right here."

Unfortunately, Ridel's mental capabilities weren't in the best position for a fight. The crimson cardinal attempted the first strike by throwing his one of his daggers for the leader, which he missed by a large margin and instead clanged loudly against the tortoise's shell. And before Ridel mind was able to process the events, the artic hare jumped in front and kicked the remaining knife away from is hand before the scorpion's tail snapped across his chest. The Greenwing warrior grunted painfully with his back scratching against the sand, suddenly feeling too tired to even open his eyes. Leave it to exiles to strike when an opponent was at their weakest – they had no honor. The Black Panther loomed over the younger fighter, pressing his foot into the cardinal's chest to send another shock of pain through his nervous system.

"This is the best the Greenwings have to offer." The Black Panther scoffed. "What a loser."

"We should restrain him before he regains his strength." The sparrow advised. "I've seen him in the arena – he's not one to take lightly."

"Who said we're taking him anywhere?" The Black Panther smirked malevolently. "If he ever gets his full strength back, he'll be too much of a liability to handle. We'll just tell the Greenwings that he's alive until we get the materials." He retrieved Ridel's discarded knife from the sand, watching it glint in the sun light. "It's like the old saying goes: what they don't know won't hurt them."

The leader of the exiles looked over his shoulder to his unwilling minions, daring them to defy him. They were smart – they knew they wouldn't stand a chance against the Black Panther. The dishonorable felines returned his focus to the wounded cardinal on the ground with the dagger positioned to stab the youngling with great force. The Black Panther swiftly brought the silver blade to pierce the crimson cardinal's heart…and his fist smacked against his chest. The exile leader did a double take. He was holding a silver pointed dagger in his hand for one moment and found his palm completely empty the next.

"What in the…" The Black Panther stammered shockingly.

"Didn't you mother ever teach you not to play with sharp objects?"

The Black Panther stiffened at the tone along with the rest of his banished cohorts. Though he really wished he hadn't, the exile leader hesitantly allowed his eyes to wander and stopped briefly and the half-buried wreckage of the Sand Rider. A cobalt-blue hedgehog with six contour quills stood perfectly poised on the wheels of the overturned vehicle, twisting the missing knife in his hand casually. Everyone on Areno recalled the fabled Sonic the Hedgehog – a hero from another world that had defeated a Greyfang warrior unscathed and was rumored to have traveled to the Shadow Realm. One would have surmised that he would never return and there were some small changes since he was last seen two moths ago. His attire consisted of his usual red/white boots with golden straps, white gloves with metal bracelets, a black belt with carrying two pouches on the sides, a silver crown necklace, and his favorite green-lensed sunglasses. This time, he was carrying a folded piece of shining-silver metal at his hip – most likely a weapon – and had a deep scar cutting vertically across his left cheek. It was the Black Panther that noticed the green feather tattoo the represented the Greenwings on his left should, which only confirmed his identity. Sonic stiffed a laugh when he caught sight of the exile's expressions.

"What?" Sonic smirked playfully. "Got somethin' in my teeth?"

"You – you –you – you – you." The Cyclopes repeated, pointing a shaky finger at the hedgehog.

"Ya might wanna try using sentences." Sonic joked, tossing the knife over his shoulder.

"Aren't you the blue hedgehog?" The arctic hare said with wide eyes. "The same hedgehog that beat a shadow walker and fought the infamous Genocide during the Advancement Exam?"

"Finally, someone believes me!" Sonic exclaimed in relief. "Yep, that was me. And if you guys know what's good for ya, you'll leave my friends alone."

"You thing we'll be swayed by mere rumors?" The Black Panther gritted; Sonic had a feeling that he was trying to act tough to hide his own cowardice. "We were banished from our homes because everyone was afraid of us – we are the best of the best!"

But the cobalt blue hedgehog merely shook his head and sniggered under his breathe; the exiles weren't too happy. Without the command of their leader, the Blackheart scorpion stabbed his stinger at a rate that normal people wouldn't be able to see. But if you haven't learned by now, nothing is ever normal with Sonic around. The cobalt speedster effortlessly sidestepped the stinger closed his hand over the tail before the arachnid had a chance to withdraw. Sonic allowed himself to be carried as the Blackheart pulled back his stinger, allowing him the prefect opportunity to slam his heel into the scorpion's face. The banished arachnid fell unconscious as the cobalt hedgehog landed with his back turned to the exiles. The arctic hare and the sparrow moved to reach for their weapons, but Sonic suddenly dashed backwards with his arms stretched outward, connecting his fists with their foreheads. Needlessly said, both exiles flipped backwards momentarily before blacking out into the sand. The cobalt hedgehog skidded to a halt in front of the dimwitted Cyclopes, who took nearly a minute to think before attacking. The on-eyed Greyfang attempted to trap Sonic in a bear hug, which the Fifth Apprentice leaped over and spiral above the slow monster's head. Just as gravity was regaining its control over the hedgehog, Sonic snatched the Cyclopes by the back of his head and flipped the giant over to smash his head into the dunes. Skipping over the unconscious Greyfang, the cobalt speedster dived towards the protective Bluefin, who had taken shelter within his shell. The effort was good, but not effective. Sonic performed a powerful dropkick over the tortoise's shell, created a loud ringing noise, and the protective warrior emerged with his eyes blank and partially drooling. The Black Panther stood stupefied. This one hedgehog hand managed to take out five of his best goon in under two minutes – he wouldn't stand a second against him. The cowardly feline tried to turn and leave, only to find the legendary off-worlder blocking his path.

"Going somewhere?" Sonic said smugly.

"I was just…" The Black Panther stammered. "You see…what had happened was…aw, forget it."

And with that, the Redclaw exile slammed his forehead into the side of the upturned Sand Rider, forcing him into a self knock out.

"Wow, that was lame." Sonic said disappointed, taking a quick dash to the Greenwing travelers. "I'm only gone for a two months and already I'm having to save your tail feathers." He offered a hand to the crow, who graciously accepted. "You guys oughta listen to me more often."

"I wouldn't believe it if I didn't see it." The crow said impressively. "You actually managed to survive the Shadow Realm."

"I didn't just survive, I won." Sonic said with his usual arrogance. "You should know by now that there isn't a challenge on Earth or Areno that can slow down Sonic the Hedgehog. After I beat the three challenges and walked over a few minefields, the Ultimate Master thought I'd make great material for a fifth apprentice. Don't know why she was so surprised, though."

"She?" The crow repeated with his brow raised.

"Never mind." Sonic said nonchalantly, attempting to cover up his laughter. Though it had only been ten years, no one actually remembered that the Ultimate Master was actually female with the exception of Areno's leaders. "Anyway, I was just running back to the jungle for a little R&R when I found you guys."

"We were actually headed back there as well." The crow acknowledged, looking back to the half-buried vehicle. "Ridel's a little zoned out at the moment, so we could really use your…" His sentence broke off with a cloud of sand flying into his vision; Sonic had run off…again. "Help. Why do I always get stuck with the nut jobs?"

* * *

The scenery alternates to a small trading village settled between the regions of Steel and Sand, otherwise known as the Sunder Station. Over the years, the village had gained a reputation of being the seediest black market in Areno for illegal trades and covert meetings, which no one had denied. The cobblestone streets, which were uneven and fractured in various points, were littered with discarded trash, splatters of blood, and homeless villagers begging for mercy. One couldn't even walk two feet without finding a stall of contraband items – most of them were drugs with steroid enhancements used in the arena. This area represented the worst Areno had to offer, which made it unsurprising that Exiles used the village as a refuge. Speaking of whom, a particularly irritable woman was walking through the village with a disgusted sneer on her expression as she passed the filth it contained. She was a pure-white snow leopard with shining-silver hair that contained a few strand of icy-blue highlights and dark-grey spots splattering her fur. Her garments consist of a deathly-black shirt with a long sleeve covering her right arm, a pair of midnight-blue slacks, a beige pouch strapped to her left hip, a pair of deep-blue, open-toed shoes, and white framed goggles with blue lenses settled above her amethyst eyes. A silver chain was wrapped around her waist four times and ended with a bronze weight with five spikes – her weapon of choice. A silver wolf's tail – the symbol of the Whitetails – was tattooed just above her breast, but was covered by a deep scar that displayed her banishment from the tribe. The vain feline allowed her eyes to wander between the filth and decay of the village while her feet unconsciously carried her down the road. if it wasn't for the message, the female leopard would never dare set foot in this suburban junkyard. The movements finally came to a halt at the front door of one of the rattier inns – a favorable place for exiles to meet.

"This better be worth it." The snow leopard said disdainfully. She cautiously pushed the solid oak door away, which immediately fell inwards to the floor due to the lack of hinges. Scoffing at the mediocrity, the banished felines stepped over the threshold, surprised to find the dining arena of the inn completely abandoned. "Hello? Anyone here?"

"That depends." A thick, Cajun accented echoed. "Are you the one that called this meet?"

The white felines hissed surprisingly and instinctively reached for her chained weapon as she turned towards noise. How could she have not noticed the hulking beast leaning in the corner? The creature in question was a seven foot crocodile – much larger than any normal animal – with mossy-green scales, a row of mismatched teeth, and pair of predator-yellow eyes that stared hungrily at the feline. While his normal clothing was only considered to be his sleeveless-black jacket, bronze bands with broken chain links were locked at his ankles and wrists, and a steel collar was settled around his neck. He looked more like a prisoner than an exile – a fact that was made clear by the scar running across the Bluefin symbol on his right thigh. The massive monster leered down on his prey, but didn't show any hostility…yet.

"I recognize you." The snow leopard said warningly. "You're Marter the Crocodile. You were exiled from the Bluefins after devouring over sixty members of your tribes and imprisoned in Catacombs for similar crimes across Areno."

"Doing time just didn't suit me." Marter said smugly, gesturing to the shackles. "And the name's Scale."

"How original." The snow leopard remarked sarcastically.

"And just who do you think you are, bitch?" Scale questioned with an animalistic growl.

"I am Valentina the Snow Leopard." Valentina responded uninterestedly. "I'm guessing you're not the one that sent the message if you're the one asking the same thing." Scale narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but nodded nonetheless. "Then the real question is who called us to this rat infested town."

"That's what we'd like to know." A new voice joined the conversation.

Though not as surprised as her first encounter with the monster croc, Valentina gave a start with her hands dropping once again to grasp her weapon – Scale exposed his teeth threateningly. They were apparently not the first to arrive. Two new characters stepped out of the shadows silently with mistrustful glances shared between them. The first of them was an oak-brown mockingbird with a dark-grey beak, a collection of white feathers across his chest, and a single row of pointed feathered trailing to the back of his head. His attire was presented as a pair of navy-blue jeans, an unzipped steel-grey vest, and pair of white gloves, and red/white running shoes. His weapon of choice was a double-edged polearm with a single curved blade at the end, which he carried strapped to his back. The symbol of the Greenwings was tattooed over his chest, but was blocked over by a deep wounded scar.

The second newcomer was a large scorpion roughly a foot shorter than Scale, but was much more wide and muscular than the banished Bluefin. His exoskeleton was as lightly colored as the desert sands, making him perfect for blending in with the environment. The shelled warrior was explicitly different from its brethren due to the increased layer of plating around the torso and shoulder regions, four speared pincers surrounding the mouth, his charcoal-black eyes, and his lack of a tail and stinger – it looked to have been cut off. Like most of his species, the disfigured scorpion wore only a single loincloth as clothing. Staring between the arctic feline and the length amphibian, the scorpion warrior hissed and clicked with his multiple pincers twitching in response. There was no tribal marking on him, which lead the others to believe it may have once been branded on his missing tail.

"And you would be?" Valentina questioned seriously.

"The name's Shriek and I think this guy is Guillotine." Shriek said cluelessly, referring to the drooling beast standing over his shoulder. "It's kinda hard to tell since he can't speak normal like the rest of us."

"And you didn't call us?" Scale noted impatiently.

"Wasn't us." Shriek shook his head. "We've been waiting an hour for the guy to show up."

"Hey, we having a slumber party?" An eccentric voice laughed. "And me without my nightwear."

Maybe it was due to the surprise guest appearances recently or maybe they weren't impressed, but no one showed the slightest concern as someone passed through the side wall. The latest addition to the gathering was hot-pink cat with scarlet-red hair tied into a ponytail that went well with her flaming-orange eyes. Her outfit was made from a full-body, skin-tight, black suit with ruby-red armored plated covering her waist, knees, forearms, breasts and shoulders. Her own personalized weapon was a purple-bladed scythe with a polished-black handle that she carried on her back. The other exiles didn't see any tribal symbol, but Valentina had a feeling her tattoo was somewhere most people wouldn't look. The ghostly feline skipped merrily in between the circle of banished warriors, taking one good spin to look at them.

"Wow, you guys are ugly." The armored cat commented cluelessly. "Note to self: ask the author for a better looking team."

"What's she prattling on about?" Valentina questioned strangely.

"That's Eve the Cat from the Redclaws." Shriek answered unenthusiastically. "She's not all there in the head. She thinks we're all fictional characters for a story about Sonic the Hedgehog."

"Freak." Scale commented rudely.

"That's not very nice." Eve pouted. "I wonder if Deadpool had this trouble."

"Just ignore her and everything will be fine." Valentina stated snidely; Eve lowered her shoulders sadly. "Since I doubt she has enough mentality to use the front door, I don't think she's the one that called us all here." She took a quick glance around the group. "Now that I think about it, we're all exiles from our respective villages. Think there's a connection?"

"At this point, I don't really care." Shriek said impatiently. "I've already wasted an hour trying to wait for this guy. And if you think I'm gonna spend another moment…"

"Sit down, Shriek of the Greenwings."

The tone was strong and demanding – enough to command armies without even trying. Those who were armed with weapons withdrew their personal items, only to have them swiftly knocked out of their hands by a flash of silver and stabbing them into the far wall. The muscular members of the exiles attempted to jump their attacker, but were effortlessly thrown to the floor by a single swing of his fist. Grunting and groaning, the banished warrior wisely decided to stop their assault until they had a good idea what they were dealing with. The man who emerged from the darkest corners of the inn didn't fill the exiles with much confidence. How would you feel if you found yourself standing against Regis the Manticore, the First Apprentice of the Ultimate Master? The rugged warrior stood proud and tall, unchanged by the ten years that had passed, with his heavy silver hammer resting patiently on his shoulder. The First Apprentice swatted the table between him and the exiles, leaving nothing to stand in his way from reaching them. Regis approached them with his footsteps echoing in his might, glaring down at the frightened warriors.

"I'm glad to see you all made it." Regis said in a monotone.

"Made it?" Shriek repeated confused. "You're the one that called us here?"

"Not me." Regis announced, stepping to the side. "He did."

At that mention, a pair of heavy footfalls could be heard stepping through the darkness – that seems to be everyone's favorite entrances. His first appearance to the exiles filled them with both suspicion and curiosity. The warrior was considerably human-shaped and stood at the height of an average male, but his burning-red eyes gave the feeling of a demon's vision. His entire body was guarded by heavy armor: a black underlying body suit, rocky-grey plating covering his torso and hands, layered plating at his hips, shoulder and knee pads with serrated blades, a silky-white sash around his waist, and the three-pronged helmet complete with a mouth guard. The two things that stood out from the armored titan was the elongated claw on his left hand and the three-pronged symbol at his hip – it vaguely resembled a dragon's foot. The newcomer carried himself with prestige and cunning as he stepped closer to the exiles, stopping short to stand at Regis's side.

"Greetings, my fellow outsiders." The armored warrior said casually. "I am Oroku Saki, otherwise known as the Shredder."

"Shredder?" Eve blinked animatedly. "Weren't you blown up in some multi-dimensional explosion by twelve mutant turtles, your daughter, and your parallel counterpart?"

"The fact that you know that is disturbing." The Shredder commented. "But like the great phoenix, I have risen from the ashes on countless occasions – I can never die. It is my destiny for greatness, which is why I have summoned you all here."

"What are you talkin' about, metal man?" Scale questioned.

"You are all banished solider – hated enemies of your brethren." The Shredder explained harshly. "But the fact still remains that you are the best this wretched wasteland has to offer. You may be hated for your particular method, but you will soon be feared under my command."

"You're not the first person to claim world domination." Shriek said in disbelief. "What makes you so special, tin man?"

"Because I have the knowledge to obtain power." The Shredder proclaimed importantly. "And I have the strength to take it."

"Well, what make you think you're gonna be the one to take it?" Shriek continued in a defiant tone. "What's stopping us from strangling the answers out of you and taking the whole thing ourselves?"

"You believe you have what it takes to challenge my authority?" The Shredder chuckled cruelly, crossing his arms in a mocking sense. "The unfortunate reality is: you are nothing more than insignificant insects under my foot. Once you no longer serve any purpose to me, you will have any purpose to exist."

Many of the exiles leered spitefully at the armored warrior, but Shriek was the only one who went into action. The mockingbird's reputation for being the fastest warrior in Areno – a title stolen by Sonic – was put to use as he withdrew his bladed polearm and slashed across the Shredder's chest before anyone could even blink. A short period of uncomfortable silence passed between the exiles with Shriek's smug expression staring up at the Shredder's impassive stature. They soon learned who was giving the orders around here. The bladed tip of the mockingbird's weapon was segmented into three separate parts before Shriek dropped his weapon and fell backwards with a dull thud on the wooden floor. You could imagine how astonished they were two find two slash marks cut perfectly clean across the deceased avian's face.

"It would seem that I have not made myself clear." The Shredder said lowly. "I am not asking you to join me – I'm telling you."

"Work's for me." Valentina said nervously.

"I'm in." Scale nodded; Guillotine followed his motion.

"I can make the team uniforms." Eve offered; the exiles glared silently. "What? It's not my fault you all are fashionably challenged."

"But this now presents a problem." Regis proclaimed, gazing down at the recent corpse. "We needed one exile from every village to have thorough understanding of the layout. Without Shriek, we have no way of knowing where are target is hidden in the Greenwing territory."

"And that's where I come in."

Today was full of surprise entrances. But instead of appearing from the shadows, the new arrival was standing on the second level of the inn standing on the metal railing with perfect balance. Much like the Shredder, the newcomer refused to show his true appearance. Instead, he wore a black-leather jacket with steel-grey padding underneath, a pair of matching grey pants, black combat boots with silver straps, and a pair of pitch-black gloves. He wore a hood over his head to conceal his head and shielded his face by a blood-red mask with three slash marks running diagonally across the surface. The brave newcomer leaned forward and dropped to the lower level, approaching the Shredder with no hint of fear.

"I know the Jade Jungle like the back of my hand." The masked assailant promised. "I can get you in easy."

"And who would you be?" Scale asked.

"Call me Talon." Talon answered. "I heard about your little game from a snitch and I want in."

"What reason do you have to become my soldier?" The Shredder questioned suspiciously.

"I'm not interested in joining your little club." Talon proclaimed. "But I have a personal score to settle with a few people and your guys are the quickest way to get it."

"A vendetta." The Shredder said lowly. "A growing conflict that I can understand. Very well…I will allow you to become my follower in return that you will abide to my every command." The masked assailant was eerily silent, but his answer was made vaguely clear. "Excellent. Now we will begin our hunt by searching the villages and finding our answers to the one true treasure."

"And what exactly are we going after?" Valentina asked curiously.

That same question seemed to run through the minds of every exile, but the Shredder made no effort to respond immediately. The armored warrior stepped over the corpse of the fallen Greenwing and pushed past his newest collection of servants to reach the doorway. The Exiles – Eve came up with the name – shared an uncertain glance amongst each other with the exception of Regis, who followed his lord and master through the threshold. One by one, the team of banished warriors stepped out into the open and stood beside their leader, causing most of the villagers to scurry away in fear. The Shredder stared thoughtfully into the sky – his prolonged gaze pieced into the world's three suns. The armored leader raised his hand and closed it around the middle sun as if attempting to blot it out. His answer finally came.

"The universe…"

* * *

**Sonic's return is plagued by the arrival of a new brand of evil. What is Shedder's true ambition for Areno? Will the cobalt hedgehog's new training be enough to stop them? And what does this have to do with the previous war? Find out on the next Gathering!**

**Please, read and review.**

* * *

On one final note, I will let you have the first choice of deciding where Shredder and the Exiles will go first. Choose from the following:

A) The Silver Dunes

B) The Ebony Drifts

C) The Ivory Mountains

VOTE NOW!


	3. Frozen Fury

**The Seventh Tribe: Gathering**

Shredder © Mirage Studios  
Eve the Cat © The Brawler

**Note: Because a few people asked and the idea of leaving something unfinished bugs me, I've decided to give this one last chance. But once the Desert Winds Series is over, I am through with Sonic Heroes.**

Chapter Three: Frozen Fury

The scene alternates to the Jade Jungle sector in the northern region of Areno. Earlier that day, Sonic the Hedgehog had returned to the Greenwings, announcing to the world that he had been selected as the Ultimate Master's fifth apprentice. It was fairly obvious given that he had come back after missing for two months – alive, no less. So the forest of gargantuan trees was filled with music, laughter, and the scent of burning herbs. The only downer was that the leader of the Greenwings himself had refused to join in the festivities. The teenaged monarch took refuge in the deepest, darkest roots of the Jade Jungle, beyond the borders of the former Chupacabra's territory where no one dared to travel. It was here that he was found in his lime-green cloak with golden fastenings, staring into a circular pool of what appeared to be emerald-green water.

His name is Trig the Crane, the youngest leader in Greenwing history and, secretly, the Ultimate Master's only son. He was fairly around seventeen years of age with steely-grey feathers that glinted against the few rays of light that reached through the roots. He had black rings against his stormy-grey eyes, a beak that resembled a shade of bronze, and a mop of head feathers that fell backwards. The young avian stared unblinkingly into the untouched pool, sighing deeply in thought. A sharp snap was heard. Acting on instincts that were hereditary on Areno, Trig skidded around in full circle, swiping his fist backwards at the intruder. His wrist was caught – Serena smiled tenderly.

"A bit too slow, son." Serena said kindly, releasing his hand. "Next time, you might not be so lucky."

"Sorry…I was just thinking about something." Trig said apologetically. He unconsciously rubbing his wrist – his mother was unbearably strong, even when she was gentle. "Sonic arrived earlier to give us the good news. If I had known that the Ultimate Master was going to make a guest appearance, I would have been a better host."

"You know that I not one for attention." Serena joked. "Why do you think I live in a place like the Shadow Realm?"

"Good point, master." Trig nodded.

"Trig, what have I told you?" Serena scolded.

"Uh…right." Trig chuckled nervously. "Sorry, mother."

Serena smiled and nodded with approval; Trig was able to breathe again. The last surviving full-blood Precursor stepped closer to her son, standing side-by-side as they stared into the pool's reflection with mild interest. The air was thick between them – silence threatened to devour them entirely. It wasn't difficult to understand why. She was the Ultimate Master – the greatest fighter in the world, possibly the entire universe. She rarely left her sanctuary within the Shadow Realm, even after she had given birth to her and Levin's child. What do you say to your mother after fragmented years of separation?

"I remember this place." Serena smiled shyly; Trig blinked with curiosity. "This was the place where your father and I first met."

"He never really said anything about that." Trig commented. "Actually, I never even knew you were my mother until Sonic arrived."

"And for that, I am truly sorry." Serena said earnestly; gazing into the depths of the emerald liquid. "As the leader of this tribe, you are well aware of what this…thing is."

"It's a fragment of Argus's power." Trig answered automatically. "A small piece of his power that was left behind after he had constructed the Jade Jungle and banished us to this godforsaken realm."

"Argus had his reasons." Serena proclaimed, not bothering to elaborate. "This is one of seven points in the world where Argus's will and spirit is at its strongest. The Areno's overseer, it's my solemn duty to check the Marks of Argus every year to make sure Areno's life-force is regulating perfectly. I had just arrived here twenty years ago when you're father dropped in."

"Why would he want to explore a disturbing place like this?" Trig asked clueless.

"No, he literally dropped in." Serena giggled, reliving the memory in her head. "The poor boy was sliding through the vines when he slipped and dropped nearly a hundred feet. It was fortunate for him that I happened to be standing there, but not so lucky for my back."

"Let me guess." Trig smirked. "He saw you and asked if he had died and gone to heaven?"

"I don't remember, but I get the feeling angels were involved somehow." Serena said while chuckling in amusement. "I had been along for nearly a millennium – it was wonderful to finally meet someone who saw me as Serena instead of the Ultimate Master."

"Bit of a nasty shock when he found out." Trig said jokingly; mother and son exchanged bursts of laughter. "I miss him and…you know."

"I wish I could say they are in a better place." Serena said; she seemed downcast as she draped her arm soothingly over his child's shoulders. "But as long as Areno continues to suffer the way it does now, I'm afraid that the souls of the departed will never find true peace."

"That's why you tricked Sonic into becoming your apprentice." Trig stated knowledgably.

"He's…different from anyone I've ever met." Serena proclaimed seriously, removing her arm and tilting her head upwards to the thin rays of light shining through the canopy. "Perhaps it was by accident or maybe this was the will of Argus, but I know things are going to change very soon." A moment of silence passed until she suddenly snapped her attention to a random direction; her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Perhaps sooner that I thought."

"Mother?" Trig questioned strangely.

"I have to go." Serena said curtly.

Trig wasn't the least disappointed or upset as the Ultimate Master dashed into the shadows of the roots; her skirt flapping against the leafy floor. The teenaged leader had grown accustom to being alone ever since his father was killed by the Chupacabra five years ago, despite everyone's best interest to help him through it. Trig would have thought that taking revenge on his father's murderer and accomplices would have satisfied him, but the gnawing feeling in his gut was only getting worse.

And he knew why.

* * *

The scene moves to the most northern region in the desert world to the snowcapped peaks of the Ivory Mountains, the only place in Areno with a temperature below ninety. The frozen fortress of the Whitetail village was tucked securely between two steep summits layered in ice, making it impossible to climb, and the only entrance was the icy bridge that stretched over a seventy foot gorge. Sounds suicidal, doesn't it? Above the gateway leading into the Whitetail village, a canary-yellow polar bear and two teenaged penguins were standing guard on the walkway. Though the Bark the Polar Bear looked determined and serious, the younglings were slouching against edges of the post. Bark sighed and shook his head in disapproval. Why did Master Friz have to stick him with a couple of children with the attention span of a watermelon – a watermelon would make a better guard in his opinion.

"Are we done yet?" One of the penguins whined.

"No!" Bark snapped sternly. "We have another hour before the next shift. Now pay attention. You never know what could happen at any given time."

"But nothing ever happens up here!" The second penguin complained, dropping his spear in exaggeration. "We live on the top of a freakin' million-foot iceberg for Argus sake! Any potential attackers would have to worry about the freezing temperatures, wild animals, slippery cliffs, and actually have to know where they are going before they reach here!"

"That doesn't mean it isn't possible." Bark stated firmly.

"The Blackhearts never even made it past the gates." The first penguin scoffed, placing his weapon to the side. "He's got a point – what could possibly happ…"

And before he could finish his last syllable, the young soldier's neck was coated in a waterfall of crimson liquid before he head fell backwards off his shoulders and into the depths below. The other flightless bird screamed horrifically and dropped backwards, crawling away as his friend's corpse clattered against the floor. The coward didn't get far before his back bumped into someone; the unseen assailant stabbed through the top of the penguin's head without giving him a chance to look up. Two guards killed in less than forty seconds – these guys were not amateurs and certainly not normal. Eve giggled enthusiastically as she phased the rest of her body through the floor and smiled politely to Talon, who had cleaned his dagger using his kill's feathers. Bark raised his fists defensively, ready to push out the intruders, until something glinted out of the corner of his eye. The enlarged polar bear looked over and the last thing he saw was a spiked ball of bronze flying towards his face. The former guard swayed back and forth until gravity finally took control and toppled the mighty warrior to the floor with the weapon spikes still buried in his face. Valentina sneered with distaste as she pulled back her Meteor Hammer with a tug of the chains – Eve clapped like a child at the circus.

"Yay, encore, encore!" Eve cheered; Talon slapped his hand over her mouth.

"You are going to be as quite as possible." Talon said threateningly. "Or you'll learn meaning to the phrase 'silent as the grave'. Are we clear?"

"You totally ripped that off of Pirates of the Caribbean." Eve said pointedly as she removed his hand.

"Ignore her." Valentina answered urgently to Talon's confused sputtering. "Just open the gates."

"Don't tell me what to do." Talon glowered.

The masked assailant cautiously stepped over the piles of mutilated bodies and bloodstains to the mechanism that controlled the security gate, which turned out to be a simple crank. Talon guessed that with the natural defenses, they didn't have to worry about improving operations. The doors of the entranceway slowly pushed away from one another with Shredder leading his new team of Exiles through the threshold. While waiting for his subordinates to assemble, the Shredder took this opportunity to survey the surroundings. It was relatively small in comparison to the city he once ruled from the shadows, but was by far the grander of the two. Every house, market, statue, tower, and any architecture in general was chiseled perfectly from everlasting ice right down to the smallest details. Quite a few households were imbedded with gems that sparkled of every color of the rainbow, which he supposed came from the hundreds of mineshafts visible in the mountainsides. But the most spectacular sight was the forty-foot frozen tower that effortlessly dwarfed the rest of the village. Peaked at the top of the citadel was a diamond the size of the Master Emerald, washing its warming glow over the villagers. Shredder had plans to return to his original universe one day, but first he would take time to wrestle control over this planet. And it looks like he found his starting point.

"Infiltration was successfully." Regis informed in a business-like tone. "Just as Valentina said, the internal security was weak – there doesn't appear to any other guards in the vicinity."

"I can't believe it was that easy to break in." Scale snickered monstrously, ripping the skin of a…yellow arm. No one was stupid enough to ask where he got it. "Now what, boss?"

"Valentina, you already know your objective." Shredder said seriously; Valentina nodded curtly. "The rest of us will draw the attention of the military force until she returns with the treasure in hand."

"That's not very mysterious." Eve commented disappointedly. "The author's starting to suck at the dialogue scenes."

"Whoa, hold up now!" Scale snarled dubiously; Eve puffed her cheeks childishly when no one paid attention to her. "What was the point of sneaking in here if we're gonna get caught anyway?"

"I wasn't worried about getting in." Shredder proclaimed. "I was more concerned with getting inside the village before we were discovered. We need to attract as much attention so that Valentina will have enough time to infiltrate the tower and complete her objective before we are overwhelmed."

"And what exactly is so valuable," Scales leered severely. "That we're risking our necks to get it?"

The armored titan remained unnaturally silent. The Exiles could feel the air starting to thicken around them – they were smart enough not to ask any more questions. The Shredder slowly raised his hand to signal his followers – Talon unsheathed his knife, Regis shouldered his war hammer, Eve accidentally smacked her scythe between her eyes. And with a wave, the Exiles scattered into frozen village. The Whitetails didn't even know what happened until Guillotine the Scorpion crash landed into the market plaza with enough force to crack the ice in every direction within twenty feet. Having landed in the middle of a crowded market street, the overgrown arachnid closed his pincers over two random villagers, severing their bodies in two. The sight of the immediate execution initiated the villager's first natural instinct: run like Shadow Realm! The non-warrior Whitetails began scrambling out of the way, screaming with freight and terror, while the few fighters on the street pushed their way through. Guillotine dropped to all-fours with pincers crackling over the sheets of ice – his multitude of mandibles clicked and hissed incoherently.

"That's a Blackheart." A bulking muskox said obviously. "How did it get in the village? Did it dig through?"

"The Ivory Mountains are three-eighths gemstone and four-eighths solid stone." A scrappy-looking lemming wearing double-bladed claws answered, rolling his eyes. "The only way into the village is through the main entrance."

"It doesn't matter." A one-eyed wolverine stated seriously. "What does matter is kick his ass out."

Guillotine screeched in a challenging manner – his mandibles spread across his face – crouching closer to the ground. The arctic trio moved into defensive positions when a thunderous boom ripped across the atmosphere from various directions. They were startled when they discovered five columns of onyx-black smoke hovering over the mountains peaks. The situation was made obvious – the scorpion wasn't alone. Speaking of whom, Guillotine had used the momentary distraction to his advantage and jumped forward for his first target: the scrawny lemming. The overgrown arachnid quickly overshadowed his opponent and stabbed his claw to the rodent's waist with his pincers positioned on either side. Guillotine growled in frustration as his pincers were unable to close due to a pair of furry hands prying the claws outwards. The Whitetail muskox was using pure muscle to keep his comrade from death, allowing the scrawny lemming warrior to slip through the claw. The snowy rodent crawled his way up Guillotine's arm and slashed his clawed weapon across the scorpion's face, slicing off two of his mandibles. The Blackheart arachnid shrieked in his own language, trying to ignore the blood slipping down his chin and clipping the rodent with his free pincer – he missed drastically. It's a good thing his mind was preoccupied or the feeling of the muskox ripping his left arm from the bone and sinew would have been worse. Guillotine stumbled backwards, clutching his stub with his remaining claw, before the muscular Whitetail slapped the scorpion across the face with his own severed claw. The Blackheart Exile fell onto his back as the wolverine warrior snatched to a pair of foot-long crystal from a nearby stall. And before the invader could lift himself up, the Whitetail landed on Guillotine's chest and stabbed them gems through his rough exoskeleton. Guillotine hissed lowly with a spiteful leer before his head dropped back, lifeless.

"Well, that was a good way to spend twenty minutes." The lemming squeaked, sitting on the muskox shoulder.

"Duh, twenty." The muskox groaned, blinking stupidly at the rodent. "I thought it was…uh…" He started counting his fingers; the lemming "One…two…four…twenty-one…"

"Don't hurt yourself, buddy." The lemming said sympathetically, patting the bovine.

"There are still others attacking the village." The wolverine commanded seriously, stepping away from the arachnid corpse. "I estimate there are at least five other ranging from the Aurora Wall to the Wolf Citadel. Our forces are still stretched thin since the Blackheart raid two days ago, so we'll need to provide support."

"And here I was worried today would be boring." The lemming fighter snickered; Wolverine glared threateningly. "All right, all right, we get it – beat up the bad guys, save the village. All in a day's work, eh, Kaide?"

"Beat up bad guys!" The muskox named Kaide cheered dumbly. "Let's – Ahh!"

The lemming warrior quickly dropped off his partner's shoulder and into the snow once the massive bovine started twitching uncontrollably. The other Whitetail fighters were uncertain of what to do, being forced to watch as Kaide the Muskox sputtered and gasped, dropping to his knees as his eyes rolled backwards. And then it happened. Kaide craned his head backwards, facing the sky, and a thin wisp of pearly-white steam crawled out of his open mouth. With each moment that passed, the enlarged bovine seemed to wither away until he was left as nothing but a husk of his former self. While the lemming soldier chittered around the shriveled form of the deceased bovine, Wolverine followed the thin mist…back to Guillotine's carcass. If he didn't see it for himself, the winter weasel would have never believed it was possible to return from the dead. But he saw it with his very eyes – Guillotine's wounds were closed, the crystals were pushed from his chest, and his missing limbs regenerated like they were never touched; his tail was still missing. The Blackheart arachnid clicked his restored mandibles and tested its new claw, feeling satisfaction with unexpected victory. And with a fresh burst of energy, Guillotine flipped back up to his feet, ready for round two.

"Uh, what just happened?" The lemming chirped clueless.

"You have no idea what you're up against."

Wolverine and the rodent fighter momentarily snapped their attention above; Guillotine's curiosity was also peaked. Standing on the edge of the rooftops with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed was Glace the Snowy Husky. His fur was white and pure like freshly powdered snow with black circles around his icy-blue eyes. His clothing consisted of a sapphire-blue vest with the Whitetail symbol (a curved wolf tail) stitched to the back in white thread, a coil of steel chain constricted around his right forearm, a pair of black boots with silver threading and white laces, and three metal bands that tamed his bushy tail. Glace was always recognized as Master Friz's right-hand, despite the obvious animosity, and commanded a lot of authority of the tribe.

"If you know anything about this…monster," Wolverine said carefully. "Now would be a good time to explain."

"This abomination is no ordinary Blackheart." Glace proclaimed; his eyes rolled over the scorpion expectantly. "The obvious sign was the removal of his tail since there is only one banished warrior from the Blackheart tribe to have it removed. He is the thief of a thousand lives – the physical embodiment of death itself. He is the warrior with no name."

"The warrior with no name?" The lemming repeated confused, scratching his head. "Then what do we call him?"

"They do have one title that describes him." Glace continued; Guillotine hissed. "He is Guillotine – the reaper of souls."

* * *

The scenery alternates to the Wolf Citadel during the Exile's invasion of the village. With the guards being called into battle to defend, Valentina was able to slip into the frozen sanctuary undetected. The snow leopard treaded down the corridor as silently as possible, which seemed rather pointless considering she was the only one in the tower. Everything was just as she remembered it – the entire hallway was formed with rows of portraits depicting all ninety-eight leaders that ever ruler the Whitetail tribe with gemstone mosaics on the ceiling. Valentina sighed – she was starting to feel nostalgic.

"I can't believe I missed this old place." Valentina said softly. "I guess you really don't appreciate what you have until you lose it all. Ah, here it is."

The banished snow leopard stopped in front of a doorway between the paintings of the thirty-eighth and fortieth Whitetail leaders. It didn't look any different from the rest of entrances in the Wolf Citadel, but she knew it was the right one. Valentina was hesitant at first as she pressed her palm against the cold surface, but quickly shook her head and stepped through. The chamber she had entered looked like a cross between a museum and a trophy room. Eight rows of podiums were erected containing various tombs and treasures – some of them were damaged – with weapons, shields, and masks nailed to the wall. Most of the trophies held symbols of enemy tribes and quite a few of them were valuable enough to compare with the Ultimate Master's collection. But none of that mattered now because her eyes were already locked on target: fourth row, seventh pedestal. But when she looked through the case, her face fell in disappointment.

"Missing?" Valentina sputtered dumbfounded, pressing her face against the glass. "But that's impossible! Where the Shadow Realm…?"

"You always did trouble with language."

The exiled snow leopard sighed inwardly, closing her eyes took take a deep breath before turning attention to the farthest corner of the room. It didn't really surprise her that the leader of the Whitetail tribe had managed to slip through without being detected – he was revered as the Invisible Titan during his time as a member of the New Warriors. Master Friz was a middle-aged snow wolf with a shiny, silver coat, a pair of scarlet-red eyes, a bottle-brush tail, and a jet-black stripe running down the bridge of his nose. He wore copper gauntlets with matching greaves, a black-leather belt with six holsters each holding a different weapon, and a tribal necklace made from eight diamond crystals. Friz watched the young exile with an undefined expression that made Valentina twitch with anxiety.

"I didn't expect to see you back this soon." Friz said monotonously. "I hadn't planned for you to return until at least a year."

"You actually wanted me to come back." Valentina scoffed rudely, crossing her arms with her eyes narrowed angrily. "That's a laugh considering that you were the one that banished me four months ago."

"You left me with no choice." Friz proclaimed seriously.

"You had a choice, but you chose to let me pay for it instead!" Valentina snapped savagely. "If you had really cared about me, you would have done something to protect me instead of letting those bastards cut me open and throw me off the mountain!"

"I did it because I love you, Valentina!" Friz responded urgently.

"Bullshit!" Valentina snarled. Her breathing became irregular and tears threatened to overflow, but she wouldn't give him that satisfaction. "Why don't you tell the truth? You never cared me – you were afraid of me, disappointed in me because I could never live up to your expectations! You always loved Seam and Raze more than me!"

"That's not true." Friz said collectively.

"Shut the Shadow Realm up." Valentina heaved heavily. "I've made my choices…and I don't regret them, daddy."

* * *

**The bond between a parent and child grows weak with age. What is the Exile's objective in the Ivory Mountains? What unknown powers does Guillotine possess? And what is the secrets shared between Valentina and Friz? Find out on the next Gathering!**

**Please, read and review.**


	4. For Sale

**Author Note**

After long deliberation, I have come to terms that I can't do this due to lack of motivation and time with other stories. But I am not cancelling it. Instead, I am now offering to sell the "Sonic Heroes Series" to anyone who feels up to the task. I will ask to keep somethings for the main plots and will provide advice if asked, but everything else will be up for the new author to choose. If anyone is interested, please contact me within three days of this message

sighed,

_~Babylon Sky Hawk~_


End file.
